The longer daylight hours have me in a tizzy.
I’m filled with energy this time of year!
Look at this:
When I wake up in the morning I step into my shower, into the light that pours through this large window, I water my plants as I deep condition. I inspect my orchids for new leaves and roots. I snap off sections of spent fern. I pour a couple of drops of sweet orange oil into the hot water as it falls and inhale deeply. But the most activating ingredient of all of these is the daylight — bright and new — falling in the window of this room.
The long smile of sunlight pours in the windows, sinks into my hair and skin. It thaws me, inch by inch. My creative river is flowing like a glacial torrent from crevices of blue and layered ice as far as the eye can see. It’s fare thee well to Winter, 4×4 traction, salts and shovels, wind like icy knives and forever expanding white in all directions.
There’s a buttery glow to all I witness. I take on more than I can handle in a day. I work until 7PM, absentmindedly (because the sun is still shining). When I come in for an afternoon snack, I’m shocked by the time on the clock. I leap into running shoes and shorts and take Farley for a quick spin on the side of the mountains.
The air up there is thick with the songs of meadowlarks.
There’s a brisk green pushing forth.
There’s the adamant cackling of pheasant and sharptail grouse spinning up like music from the height of the sage and cheatgrass.
Patchwork nests. Young things on wobbly legs or weak wings.
And all the time, that light, straining to have the last word as it settles lower and lower in the West.
I’m so easily romanced
by springtime.
I’m so flattered that she gives me so much bright attention.
I’m so honored that for me, she never wants to turn day into night;
she wants to beam down on me forever. And ever. Amen.
I’m drinking the springshine like it’s pricey contraband.
Bathing in it like a chinchilla in a dust bowl.
Wading through it like a shepherdess in the knee deep, curling white of lambs.
I’m essentially oblivious to all else.
I’m affected, I’m useless.
I’m glad.
I’m hardworking.
I’m a puddle of warm butter.
I’m full energy and bursting.
Yesterday in the studio I spent hours enameling.
My hands were sore, broken and chapped by the end of my work day.
My knee has recovered from its trauma and I ran in the hills, cutting in and out of the sunset like a bird on the wing.
I cooked dinner, took a hot bath, waited for RW to come home from the Gilbert Ranch.
I fell into bed exhausted.
I fell asleep in record time.
And today I’m going to do it all again.
I’m under the spell of spring and with all the sun shining in, I can’t help but face everything with a grin.
Love to you, one and all, on this very beautiful day,
Jillian Susan
ouch.
just stubbed my toe.
